Sam Winchester, Self-Loathing Extraordinaire (featuring Dean)
by Kremlin With Anticipation
Summary: Set in season 9 "Road Trip". It's been 2 weeks since Dean has separated from Sam and Castiel, suddenly one night Cas appears in the Impala (again...), bearing bad news about his little brother. Sam seems to have shot himself and is dead...or is he? And what will Dean and Cas make of it when they see that Lucifer is possessing his body? Can he still be alive?
1. Chapter 1

It was two weeks after Dean's confession to his brother that he got back on the road again. Alone. This was not the first time he had driven the car without its usual passenger, but that still didn't change the fact that Dean was uncomfortable with the idea. In fact, at times, he would catch himself turning his head and beginning to talk to his absent brother.

Since his recent departure he had entered a state of self-loathing. Albeit, one that he made a habit of slipping into. But there was one thing that always kept his mind busy, one thing that made him forget about everything else and focus on the goal in front of him. Hunting. This information was not a secret, at least, not to his brother.

Stepping harder on the gas pedal, Dean sped down the open road. Free to drive away at his heart's content with the lack of cars in front of him. That is, until a certain angel showed up.

"Dean," Cas said. Dean flinched. No way would he ever get used to that.

"How did you find me?" He asked, "I thought I was disguised or something."

Cas didn't answer.

Dean looked to his right and expected to see the angel absently staring off into the distance, as usual. Instead, his head was in his hands.

"Cas, what's wrong?"

He only shook his head as a reply, before finally looking up, seemingly exasperated.

"I don't know what happened, Dean. I thought I healed him, I thought he was okay. He wouldn't have done that if he were fine. Not after what I said to him, not after what he said to me. Did something go wrong? Did I fail? He was my friend, he wouldn't have done that if he were my friend. Maybe-"

It was at this point that Cas was rambling. He was shaking his head as he spoke, ranting incoherent sentences that Dean could hardly string together.

"Cas, what is going on?" Dean demanded, interrupting him. His stern tone brought Cas to attention.

Cas looked up, his face contorted with a certain pain and confusion that Dean had never seen before.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Cas, if you don't tell me what the hell is going on-"

"Sam's gone."

He kept his head down, not daring to elaborate. Dean sighed and laid back, keeping one arm on the steering wheel and the other spread across the seat.

"Alright, where'd he disappear off to this time?" Dean said, showing vexation. Despite being annoyed at his brother's apparent desertion, he was a little worried too.

"No, Dean," Cas said, still refusing to face him, "He's gone. He-he shot himself."

Dean saw Cas look up just then and face him, and it was then that Dean knew. Just by looking in his eyes. Sam was really, truly, dead. There was no bringing him back.

He pulled over to the side of the road.

"Take me to him," Dean said. Cas was confused.

"Dean, I said he was-"

"I know, just take me to him. Now."

Cas did as he was told, and placed a hand on his shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

They arrived a few seconds later at the bunker. All was still and silent, nothing seemed to be out of place.

"Where is he?" Dean said. As he spoke his eyes wandered around the room, finally resting upon a table filled with various tools, a bowl, and a used syringe. Although he was curious about these things, none of it mattered compared to Sam.

As soon as Dean asked the question, Cas's eyes flicked upstairs to Sam's "bedroom". Dean made his way up the stairs as fast as he could, but as he approached the room, his step became more cautious.

Sam was sprawled on the floor when Dean walked in. All Dean could see behind the bed was an arm and the top of his head, blood soaking his hair. Lifeless, as far as he could tell. As he approached, his heart rate increased and a strange feeling in his stomach occurred. Like someone had grabbed a fistful of guts and organs and anything they could find and ripped it right out of him, leaving a gaping hole. This was not the first time Sam had made him feel this way.

Sam eye's were wide open. Glazed over and unseeing. He was nothing but a corpse now, just a thing to be buried in the ground and forgotten. Blood was still dripping out of the hole in the back of his head.

By this time now, Dean's eyes were more than watering. He was in disbelief.

"Sammy?" He said. He shook his shoulder. Nothing would happen. Sam wouldn't magically come back to life, and Dean knew it too. But it didn't seem right not to try. Even if it meant nothing, even if it didn't change anything. He couldn't abandon his little brother, not when he had fought so hard to save him.

A creak in the floor made him turn around, where he saw Cas standing in the doorway. This gave Dean hope, revelation.

"Can't you fix him? You're an angel, you can touch him or whatever and he'll be good as new!"

"I'm sorry, Dean. I can't"

"You fix me all the time! Lucifer snapped Bobby's neck and you healed him in an instant!"

"This is different," As Cas talked he no longer focused on Dean, but on what had been Sam. Gazing and racking his brain to find out what he did wrong. Here had been a soul, a bright yet dismal oddity, that had been filled with purpose and a desire. Gone in a flash. Sam had told Cas he understood it was wrong to run towards death, even for a greater good. But he lied. He ensnared it and brought it down upon himself.

"I-I can't heal people who...who choose to do this to themselves. Just like an angel can only possess a human with permission, I can't heal someone if they choose to damn themselves to hell."

"Wait, he's in hell? He went to hell for this?"

"Taking one's life is a sin, one worthy of damnation. Thou shall not kill. Which happens to include yourself as well."

This, of course, only served to increase Dean's angst. His brother was upset enough to shoot himself, just to get away, and instead of relief he only got a worse hell than what he was living in. He fought to look away.

"There's-there's got to be something we can do."

But Cas didn't respond. He didn't move, he didn't blink. Because at the time he was witnessing a miracle, or thought he was. And when Dean turned his attention back to Sam, he thought so too.


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, the blood pooling from the back of Sam's head began to recede, and the wound started to heal. Dean sat back against the bed in disbelief.

"What-what's happening, are you doing this?"

Cas didn't take his eyes off Sam, but responded with a shake of his head.

"This isn't me," He said.

So, with no answers. Dean and Cas just had to wait.

When all the blood had disappeared, and there wasn't a mark left on him...

Nothing happened.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned tentatively. He stood up, with his hands on the back of his head, and paced the room.

"I just don't get it, Cas. What the _hell _is going on?"

"Dean."

"What?" He turned around to find a conscious Sam, standing up and faced towards them. He was looking down at his hands, examining the backs and palms. Then, with a grin, he stretched his arms and back. Letting out a harmonious laugh.

"Miss me?" He asked. Dean was befuddled.

"Sammy?" Dean asked again.

"Sorry, it's not Sammy anymore."

Dean turned to face Cas, who squinted and tilted his head, before visibly coming to a conclusion.

"Lucifer," Cas said, glaring. Dean took a step back.

"Lucifer? Lucifer's an angel."

Sam smiled, although Dean's attention was on Cas.

"Yes, he is," Cas confirmed.

When he didn't continue, Dean spoke again.

"So what the hell's he doing here?" He said, turning back to Sam. Who was now focused on Cas.

"Well, it seems that a certain angel put us all back on Earth. Nicely done, Castiel."

Cas clenched his jaw.

"You know, it's too bad about Sam," Lucifer continued, "he was so broken he didn't even think twice about letting me in. Although, it didn't appear he had much of a choice, at least, not after I was done with him."

"You son of a bitch, what did you do to him?" Dean demanded, advancing towards him. Cas gripped his shoulder in restraint.

"Nothing you haven't done before. When it comes to torture I'm afraid my imagination isn't as good as yours. Although I did include a few surprises of my own," He replied.

"Where's Michael?" Cas growled, glowering.

"Oh Michael's long gone," said Lucifer, flashing a smile, "He's always been a bit gullible. Swallowed my 'let's be brothers again' act right up."

Dean didn't let Lucifer taunt him. Getting Sam back was at the top of his priorities, not listening to this dickhead.

"Where's Sam?"

"He's in here somewhere. Tucked away in an alternate reality of pain and misery. Not unlike this one don't you think? I'm not as sympathetic as your friend Gadreel."

Dean stopped short. Taken aback.

"How do you know about that?"

"I've gotten to know lots of things since my return, particularly about our dear little Sammy. I was just waiting for him to break."

Dean paused, confused. He might have heard wrong.

"What do you-"

"I'm sorry," said Lucifer, cutting him off, "I believe my time here is up."

He gave a little wave, and sported a smug smile.

"Toodles."

He vanished.

Dean sighed before kicking the nearest thing to him. Which happened to be a small, black garbage can. He would have dismissed the mess he made, if something hadn't caught his eye. A flash of red. He knelt down and peered at the disarray.

Sticking to the bottom of the garbage can were clumps of bloody, dry paper towels. What fell out on the floor was a rust-colored knife and a stained plaid shirt.

Dean stood up slowly, a million things going through his mind. How could he have not noticed this before? Sure, Sam had dealt with a lot of crap in the past, but at some point or another he had always shared it with Dean. It hurt him that his brother had been hurting, and he had known nothing about it.

"Okay, before I even _begin _to mention everything else that's going on here. I want to know how Lucifer managed to possess, uh, Sam's body."

"Same way an angel can possess any living one," Cas said, "all he needed was permission from Sam's soul. Lucifer must have gotten it when Sam went to hell."

"Okay, well, how did he get to Sam when he was brought back to Earth?"

"As angels can return to Heaven when they are called or when they please, so can demons, only with Hell. Lucifer must have tortured him there."

Dean sighed and sat down on the bed, Cas leaned against the wall. Both were stressed and exasperated.

"I, uh, didn't know," Cas said, staring at the bloody mess around them.

"Yeah, me neither."

/

"Isn't there a way to, I don't know, expel him?"

Dean and Cas were in the bunker, hunched over piles of books. Cas didn't need to search for anything that might be useful for them to help Sam, he knew there was no hope. But he skimmed them anyway, thinking it would make Dean feel better.

"If you're talking about an exorcism, I know of none," Cas said.

"Right, and the only way we could look for one is through the angel tablet, which we don't have, along with..." Dean trailed off. Cas didn't need to ask to know he was referring to Kevin.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"No, it's alright, it wasn't your fault," Dean said, as he stood up from his chair, running a hand through his hair.

Cas tilted his head inquisitively.

"We could reason with him," He said. Dean turned to face him.

"With Lucifer?"

"No, with Sam."

He leaned back and thought about that. Sam was stubborn when he got lonely and depressed, but if anyone could crack him, it was Dean.

"Great," he said, "now all we have to do is trap the devil."


End file.
